


The Kind of Man

by angellwings



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Divine Intervention or Nightmare?, F/M, Introspection, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Realization, Short One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: He’s in Molly’s watching Sylvie from the bar as she and Stella talk at their usual table.He knows he’s being obvious and he knows she sees him staring, but he doesn’t care. He wants her and it hurts that he can’t have her.He wishes there was something he could do to change her mind, but she’d told him where they stood. Who was he to force the issue?
Relationships: Matthew Casey/Hallie Thomas, Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 25
Kudos: 93





	The Kind of Man

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Yet another prompt fic. This prompt was Angst and “Don’t you dare walk away from this!” I got a little creative with this one! Hope you like it! 
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> xoxo

_******_

_“If there's anyway for her and me,_

_To make another start,_

_Could You see what You could do,_

_To put some love back in her heart?_

_'Cause it goin' to take a miracle,_

_After all I've done to really make her see,_

_That I want to be a stay man,_

_I want to be a brave man,_

_I want to be the kind of man,_

_She sees in her dreams.”_

_-“The Man I Want To Be” by Chris Young_

******

He’s in Molly’s watching Sylvie from the bar as she and Stella talk at their usual table.

He knows he’s being obvious and he knows she sees him staring, but he doesn’t give a damn. He wants her and it hurts that he can’t have her.

He wishes there was something he could do to change her mind, but she’d told him where they stood. Who was he to force the issue?

He gulps down the last of his whiskey and slams the low ball glass down on the counter. He can’t stay here. It’s torture. She’s in the same room as him but may as well be on another planet. He hates this — giving her space is the last thing he wants.

But again, what choice does he have?

He turns and walks away, leaving Molly’s, and letting the door slam shut behind him. He takes a step toward his truck and the world around him freezes. People stop mid-stride, cars halt while obviously still running. It’s as if someone hit pause on a video.

His brow furrows in confusion until a figure appears in front of him. A figure he hasn’t seen since he was 16.

“Matthew.”

He resists a shudder. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to hear his name said with such disgust.

“Aren’t you gonna acknowledge your old man? It’s been a while kid.”

What the fuck is happening? How is his dad here, wandering around Bucktown? His dad is _dead_.

“Still the same little chickenshit you always were, I see,” his dad scoffs with a cruel smirk. “Shoulda known that wouldn’t change. Your mother coddled you too much. Turned you into a sissy. I should have nipped that in the bud the minute you were born. To this day, it’s my biggest regret — letting her keep you from acting like a man.”

He is a thirty-nine year old grown ass man so how in the hell can a few sentences from a ghost make him feel so _small_.

“Still letting people walk all over you, _desperate_ to make them proud? To make them _like_ you?” His father spits, rolling his eyes. “The only way to make people like you is to take what you want. How many times have I told you that, boy? How many times do I have to smack that lesson into that hard head of yours, huh?”

His father’s hand reaches out to slap the side of his head — just the way he used to — but before his palm makes contact with Matt’s face the specter of his father disappears.

He spins around, looking for him out of instinctive fear and panic, but his dad is gone. The street is empty of all people and all cars, leaving him alone outside of Molly’s.

And then the world around him stretches and shifts. He went from the street outside of Molly’s to inside Sylvie’s apartment. Her living room to be exact — the scene of the crime. The place where he fucked it all up.

But that’s not the moment he’s reliving. No, he’s watching himself and Sylvie play Heads Up. He smiles warmly at the sound of her laughter, but his eyes start to water and his throat tightens. He’s lost that. He’s lost _her_. Because he is everything his father said he was.

A scared chickenshit little boy so desperate to be liked that he never pushes back.

But he refuses to follow his old man’s philosophy. _Taking_ what you want is never the answer. That’s a tactic for the cruel and unfeeling. Matt is determined to never be either of those things.

And because of that, he’ll let Sylvie go. He’ll give her the space she wants because that’s what a considerate and respectful person would do.

He backs away from the scene in front of him, heading for the door, but Sylvie’s head suddenly snaps in his direction — bitter grin on her face.

“I knew you’d leave. They all do. Why would you be any different?”

“No!” He argues. “That’s not what I—you asked me for space. I’m...I’m giving it to you!”

“It’s okay,” she says softly, wiping at a tear with the back of her hand. “You’re still in love with Gabby. You can’t help that. Of course you’re not going to fight for me when you still want her. I’ll be fine. I’m used to it — the whole not being _enough_ business.” A hollow chuckle slips through her perfect lips and it’s a terrible sound. “I never have been and never will be.”

“That’s not true!” Matt shouts while her tears shred his heart to pieces. “How can you possibly think that? You’re enough. You’re _more_ than enough.”

It’s as if he hadn’t spoken at all. She doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Please, just...leave me alone,” she pleads. “I’m hurt but I’ll get over it. I just need time. Time away from you. I think you should leave.”

His feet move against his will, carrying him away from her.

Behind her, he sees a reflection of himself as if twisted in a funhouse mirror — distorted and misshapen. But his lips are moving. The sound doesn’t match the movements, but from the way the mouth opens wide and his head shakes he can tell he’s yelling.

Finally, the echo of the yelling reaches him.

“Don’t you dare walk away from this!” His own voice screams. Not once, not twice, but three times. Each more desperate than the last.

“Yell all you want,” the disembodied voice of his father mutters with a dark laugh. “He won’t listen. He’ll walk away. Like the coward he’s always been.”

“I’m not a coward!” He yells as Sylvie’s apartment fades away and he’s surrounded by pitch black. “I am not a coward! And it is not chickenshit to value someone else’s happiness above your own!”

“No, it isn’t.”

That’s a new voice. A _welcome_ voice. One he still imagines he might hear in a voicemail some day, but he never does.

“Hallie?”

As if her name summons her, she appears. Smiling warmly and openly. “Hi, Matt.”

“What are you…?”

“I’m helping,” she says with a smirk and a shrug. “Saving your ass as usual.”

He chuckles, more tears forming in his eyes. “Saving me from what?”

“Yourself. No, it’s not chickenshit to want the people you love to be happy.” Hallie’s hands land on his shoulders. The grip is her unique mix of tender but firm. She turns him to face away from her, to the image of Sylvie. This time from their last conversation in his quarters. “But does she _really_ look happy to you?”

He gulps and shakes his head, noticing the way her eyes glisten with tears and the corners of her mouth turn down. “No.”

“It’s _not_ chickenshit to want what’s best for people, Matt, but it’s also not unfeeling to fight for what's best for _you_ either. Asking for what you want isn’t the same as _taking_ it,” Hallie assures him. “You’re allowed to ask for what you want. Remember? You used to ask me for what you wanted all the time.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “And that turned out great, didn’t it?”

“It was an issue we needed to confront. You would have been even more miserable if you’d never brought it up and you know it,” Hallie says, turning him back around to face her. “Just because my answer wasn’t what you wanted to hear doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have asked. _Ask her_ , Matt. Ask _her_ for what you want. Fight for her. She’s unhappy, you’re unhappy. You can’t make things worse so _ask her_. Maybe she’s the one who’s held your answers the whole time. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Gabby. But it could be her. Can you live with never knowing?”

“No,” he rasps, shocked he managed to say it outloud. “No, I can’t.”

“Then don’t walk away. Choose her. Fight for her. You’re pretty damn convincing when you want to be,” Hallie tells him with a teasing smile. “Trust me on that one.” She leans into his space, wipes a tear from his cheek, and then kisses his brow. “Time to wake up now, Matt. She’s waiting.”

“What do you mean, she’s—“

There’s a flash of white light and then he’s suddenly aware of a steady electronic beeping and the slight bump of motion underneath him.

“Matt, come on, wake up. _Please_ wake up.”

He knows that voice. He’d listen to that voice all night long if he could. “Syl—“ his voice croaks and gives out, her name dying in his parched throat.

“Oh, thank God!” She exclaims.

His eyes open to her red teary eyes and blinding smile. He clears his throat and tries again, this time finding his voice even if it’s weaker than he’d like.

“What’d I miss?”

She lets out a soggy laugh and runs her gloved fingers through his hair — a look of immense relief overtakes her face. “A beam fell on you in a fire. Knocked you out. You weren’t down long but there was a second when I couldn’t find a pulse and I thought—“ she cuts herself off and shakes her head, one tear falling silently. “Nevermind, I’m just really glad to see you awake. We’re taking you to Med and they’re gonna look you over, okay?”

He tries to nod but the c-collar stops him. She smiles at him with fond exasperation.

“Try not to move,” she orders.

He grabs her hand and laces their fingers together, squeezing to bring her eyes back to his. “Before I forget — before the dream fades — I need you to know something.”

Her brow furrows, but she nods to let him know she’s listening.

“I’m not walking away from you. Ever. You can ask me to give you space all you want, but I can’t do it. I _won’t_ do it. I’m not a monster but I’m not a coward either. I’m allowed to ask for what I want. I want _you_. You think you’re not enough but you _are_. Sylvie, you’re—you’re everything to me. And I’m going to prove it to you. You’ll see.” He’s been speaking in an urgent rush, afraid they’ll arrive at Med before he finishes. But now he slows down and smirks with all the confidence he can muster while possibly concussed. “I’m told I can be pretty convincing when I want to be.”

Sylvie grins, laughs quietly, and then closes the distance between them to tenderly kiss his forehead. She speaks after resting her brow against his, her watery blue eyes holding steady on his. 

“I have no doubt, Matt Casey. I can’t wait to be convinced.”


End file.
